f the place came home upon me. I
felt as if I could have looked for ever on that quiet and peaceful spot.

When we reached the bottom of the hill, and had turned the corner, a
broad, well-made stone bridge confronted us. On the other side of this
was an old-fashioned country inn, with its signboard dangling from the
house front, and opposite it again a dilapidated cottage lolling beside
two iron gates. The gates were eight feet or more in height, made of
finely wrought iron, and supported by big stone posts, on the top of
which two stone animals--griffins, I believe they are called--holding
shields in their claws, looked down on passers-by in ferocious grandeur.
From behind the gates an avenue wound and disappeared into the wood.

Without consulting me, my old charioteer drove into the inn yard, and,
having thrown the reins to an ostler, descended from the vehicle. I
followed his example, and then inquired the name of the place inside the
gates. My guide, philosopher, and friend looked at me rather queerly for
a second or two, and then recollecting that I was a stranger to the
place, said:--

"That be the Hall I was telling 'ee about. That's where Sir William
lives!"

"Then that's where my father was born?"

He nodded his head, and as he did so I noticed that the ostler stopped
his work of unharnessing the horse, and looked at me in rather a
surprised fashion.

"Well, that being so," I said, taking my stick from the trap, and
preparing to stroll off, "I'm just going to investigate a bit. You bring
yourself to an anchor in yonder, and don't stir till I come for you
again."

He took himself into the inn without more ado, and I crossed the road
towards the gates. They were locked, but the little entrance by the
tumble-down cottage stood open, and passing through this I started up
the drive. It was a perfect afternoon; the sunshine straggled in through
the leafy canopy overhead and danced upon my path. To the right were the
thick fastnesses of the preserves; while on my left, across the meadows
I could discern the sparkle of water on a weir. I must have proceeded
for nearly a mile through the wood before I caught sight of the house.
Then, what a strange experience was mine.

Leaving the shelter of the trees, I opened on to as beautiful a park as
the mind of man could imagine. A herd of deer were grazing quietly just
before me, a woodman was eating his dinner in the shadow of an oak; but
it was not upon deer or woo